


Apple Tree

by The Key To Imagine (whiskeywit)



Category: The Beatles
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 13:20:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10438593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeywit/pseuds/The%20Key%20To%20Imagine
Summary: Title: Apple TreeRating: GWord Count: 501A/N: A short fic, written for my personal prompt “apple”. I hope you like it. Leave a comment – they're much appreciated.





	

  
  
  
They were a bit like an apple tree – that was what the onlooker supposed.   
  
He saw them sitting there, three people next to each other. John was looking away, scowling and most definitely not looking like he felt at comfort. Paul was sitting as far from him as possible, pulling a face as well and definitely _not_ looking in John's direction. Yoko was sitting in between them, separating them almost– with merely a smile on her face, although one that seemed to be plastered on her face as the onlooker hadn't seen her without the corners of her mouth curled up, an expression that held something between satisfied and smug.  
  
There was so much bitterness between them, the onlooker saw it easily, radiating off them in waves almost, so much rage and hate and distrust.  
  
It made it hard to imagine that just five years ago, only five years, these had been young, clean-shaved boys, lads who were filled with laughter, who felt – and more importantly – lived the joy of life, and who were adored by millions if not more.  
  
Oh, the onlooker supposed they were at least still adored by the millions. Just not for their looks.  
  
  
And really, he couldn't help but think they were like that apple tree.  
  
Their friendship had been some sort of love that had ripened over time, who had gone through the first apples on a young tree. Who were like an apple that had first been a blossom, and which had perhaps looked like it wasn't anything anymore, nothing left after the pink petals had fallen to the mud below. The first – or so it seemed – let down. Then, through rain and sunshine the fruit had grown into something bigger than the blossom, something stronger and more solid, less fragile for certain.  
  
That the unripe fruit had turned into an apple that was green at one side, young and with a fresh look onto the world, and red on the other, for the passion they had, the way they lived with the whole of their hearts.  
  
Now the apple tree had grown, had matured perhaps, just like they had. The fruit that had grown on the tree back then, had since long fallen, first grown too-sweet and definitely overripe. Then it had started to rot and to stink, while other parts were pecked away by the birds who fed themselves on the apples.   
  
And it wasn't more than natural, really, that new loves had grown like new fruits. Fruits that had not yet ripened fully, but enough so to make one forget about the first apples that had grown only years ago.  
  
  
  
  
Then the onlooker sighed, and got up. The new fruits would ripen, and fall off the trees, rot and the entire cycle would start over again. It was a matter of time before yet new apples would grow after these, just like only time would be the thing to measure the quality of the harvest with.


End file.
